The first of my two annual Christmas “Specials”. This one is a satirical piece on what it might look like if Edgar Allan Poe had written A Christmas Carol. The Mickey Spillane-inspired sequel will run on Wednesday.

A Poe Christmas

Once upon a snowstorm dreary, through which I trudged all weak and weary, Past many a quaint and curious number of advertisement lore I saw the ad, above some wrapping; on the door I started tapping At first it was a gentle tapping, tapping at the storefront door I must gain entry to this store, as there was nothing then I wanted more

Searching for this and nothing more

The toy was here for which I search, leaving me in quite a lurch Having waited far too long to shop for “The Super Fly-A-Saur” Eagerly I watched the clerk, beckoning me not to shirk I quickly entered, nearly berserk; “I must have it,” I said with a smirk “Where, oh where, be that damned flying dinosaur?”

Quoth the clerk, “The second floor”

Up the escalator I ran, fighting against its downward span I cursed its descending stairs as I glanced to the ascending flight before Casually the clerk began her ascent, chuckling at my predicament “I fear, sir, you shall be spent, before you reach the next department” I ran, and ran, for far too long, fighting against this tiresome chore

Vowing “Not up the down escalator evermore”

I stopped, bent over double, breathing hard for all my trouble Crying out with all my might, “Where is this cursed Fly-A-Saur?” She smiled that stupid service smile, the one that sends me shaking “Tis over here,” she said, “Right behind that great big door” “Tis over there, I swear, or my name is not Lenore

“Tis what you seek and nothing more”

I pushed the double doors apart, what I saw gave me a start “There’s nothing here, I’ve been tricked, where is this hellish dinosaur?” She smirked again, mocking me, sending me quaking I felt rage in the making, “Tis right there,” said this shrewish bore “You see, we’re all out at this store; here’s your rain check, nothing more”